Saturday, December 1, 2012

My Favorite Christmas with B.G. Lashbrooks

The
previous Christmas I went home from my family’s home angry at the world, my
family, at myself and my husband, and even at God…though I wasn’t sure I still
believed. I was not a militant or hardcore Christian. I don’t go to church
every Sunday but I knew what the Bible says and I knew what I sort of believed
to be true.

But
that Christmas…that was the breaking point for me. My husband and I had
been together for five years. And for the last year, had been trying for a
child.

It
wasn’t happening, and it was mostly because of my body and the fact that we
were on wildly conflicting work schedules.

But
that year, my extended family welcomed 6 babies into my family and seeing these
babies was highly upsetting for me. It felt like I had failed and that it wasn’t
fair. My husband and I were older, more responsible, more financially
stable, and more educated people. We had our own home to offer a child and we
could easily support one.

Yet we
could not make one.

I went
home that night and straight to bed, upset and hurting. I remember praying that
God give us a child before the next Christmas. Praying harder for that than
anything I’d ever prayed for before…and not truly believing it would happen.

My
confused body just simply stopped working after that. Yet there was no clear
medical reason for what was going on. My husband and I decided it was time to
take a break, to give me a chance to alleviate some of the stress that trying
had placed on me and to give us a chance to pay off some bills and get some breathing
room.

By this
time I was working part time and focusing on my writing career and had no
health insurance. It kind of made sense to wait until I could get on my
husband’s policy during the open enrollment period–8 months away.

Fast
forward to April…my body still wasn’t working–at least not obviously. I
was still stressed but not as much, I was just tired. Extremely tired. I just shrugged it off and started taking
vitamins again. I’d struggled with anemia in the past–many times–and that had
always made me tired, too. Usually after about a week of the
iron-fortified vitamins I started feeling better. Not this time. I was still
tired, so I started taking afternoon naps instead of working on my novel.
I thought nothing else of it.

May
rolled around and I was still tired, so I started going to bed a bit earlier. I
love sleeping and love long naps–so I did what I wanted and slept. And
slept. And slept some more.

On May
11th I found the last of the pregnancy tests I’d purchased when we were trying
to conceive. I’d hidden it in the corner of the shelf, but I’d always known it
was there. Taunting me. Teasing
me. Reminding me every time I stepped into the bathroom that I couldn’t do it.

I
decided to get rid of the test, yet the frugal, practical side of me couldn’t
see throwing away a test that had been unused. So I decided to use it, just to
reiterate my own failure and as a joke since my husband and I had started
taking precautions (though I secretly thought they were unnecessary) and to
just get the damned test out of my sight and out of my house.

So I
took the test. And I watched it like I had so many others. It took less than 10
seconds of the required three minutes for a positive result to appear.

I had
never been so terrified in my life. I was terrified that I’d imagined it,
terrified that it was a test malfunction, terrified that it was true. So I
stared at the test and stared at it in a state of shock I cannot with any words
describe.

So I
went into the bedroom and woke my husband. My simple “I need you in here for a
moment…” is a conversation starter I will never forget. He stumbled into the
kitchen (he does not wake easy) and I pushed the test across the island to
him…he stared at it. Then he asked what it was…then he focused on the simple white
stick.

He
asked if it was for real. Then he stumbled back to bed.

Huh?
Not the response I expected. A few minutes later he popped his head back
outside the bedroom door…”Did you just…”

“Yeah…”
Not the greatest response, but I still hadn’t put it into words just what the
test signified.

“We’ll
talk when I wake up.” He worked night shift and had to work that night.

Sounded
good to me–I needed time to process and I always had trouble processing when
other people–including my husband–were around.

Well, I
processed by going to the store (I don’t remember the drive) and buying seven
more tests. By five o’clock our kitchen counter was littered with
positive tests, pink, blue, digital, plus–they were all there for my husband to
see when he woke up.

Fast
forward a few weeks and I am extremely sick and had been diagnosed with
hyperemesis–or extreme morning sickness. I was definitely pregnant, we’d had an
ultrasound and been given a due date of Dec. 27. I’m sick, tired, and
terrified but we are also extremely excited.

Around
fifteen weeks I get violently ill (more so than with the hyperemesis), with a
hidden kidney infection and spend three days/two nights hospitalized. But I get
another ultrasound—and I feel the baby move for the first time.

At 20
weeks we are scheduled for the big gender ultrasound. All of the
grandparents and my sister are waiting to find out the results. Our results via
ultrasound–it was definitely a baby. A mischievous baby who’d refused to
hold still long enough to show us whether our nursery would be pink or blue.

Disappointed…but
my biggest concern before the ultrasound was that there would be something
wrong with my baby. After the ultrasound I didn’t care that we hadn’t found out
the gender, I was just thrilled to see little arms and legs waving around
wildly.

On my
30th birthday, we went in for another ultrasound…mainly to ensure that our baby
didn’t have an overly large head (my husband had had a larger head at birth)
and was in a good birth position. He’d gotten stuck, and I was terrified our
little one would too!

It was
very clear from the screen that our baby would be wearing a lot of pink
clothing.

On
December 14th I went on maternity leave because although my job was easy, I was
getting too tired by the end of my shift. At this point I was 37 weeks
and a few days pregnant.

The
next ten days were filled with naps and doctor’s appointments.

My body
once again refused to work. I wasn’t dilating at all. So it looked like I
would be spending Christmas the size of a whale. No big deal, I was just
excited to have a baby coming and though I was tired and hurting and ready for
it to be over with, I was also glad to not have to go through labor yet.
I’d spent most of this pregnancy terrified, so why wouldn’t I be terrified of
delivery?

On Dec.
23rd I go in again to get checked, only to be told there was no change.

No
dilation and I would not be getting my baby before Christmas…

Christmas
Eve, I sleep in. By this point my husband was sleeping in the nursery on
a rollaway mattress because I was horrible to sleep with (I lost count of the
number of times I’d kicked him or hit him in my sleep, poor man!).

Enter
one determined Border collie…

She
kept licking my hand and then my face, whimpering and jumping around on the
bed. I just assumed my husband had overslept and Liberty just couldn’t hold it
anymore.

I just
wanted to sleep!

A 39
week 5 day pregnant woman just wants as much sleep as she can get.

As I
rolled over, I felt a trickle. I stood up and walked into the living
room…by the time I got there I realized something truly wasn’t right.

I was
bleeding, and it wasn’t minor.

I went
to the restroom just as my water broke. But it wasn’t just amniotic fluid. I
was passing blood clots. I pushed Liberty out of the way–she was standing
outside the nursery whimpering–and opened the door to the nursery and told my
husband I was bleeding. I don’t think his knees even bent; he just sort of
floated up. While he put on his shoes and used the restroom I had time to grab
the hospital bag and my coat. To call my mom to come clean up the blood and to
take care of the dogs. Five minutes later we were on our way to the hospital.

I was
calm. He was terrified.

I
wasn’t in any pain, and more importantly, the baby was moving around like
crazy. She was ok and that meant everything.

By
10:30 we were there, and they rushed me past the admitting desk and straight up
to the labor and delivery floor. I was a bloody mess, after all.

And
then the bleeding stopped. I was not dilated any more than I had been the day
before.

I felt
pretty good. And strangely calm.

They
hooked me up to IVs of fluids and pitocin to increase the contractions and
their strength. I could feel some contractions, very minor ones. But still no
dilation.

An hour
later my doctor arrives to tell me the baby’s heart rate was dropping more
after every contraction. And I still hadn’t dilated.

Once
again, my body was not working. Big surprise, right?

We
discussed options. At 4p.m. the surgical team had arrived and I was prepped and
on my way back for the surgery. The anesthesiologist did the epidural and I was
numb. My husband was led in. He and the anesthesiologist stayed by my head,
talking to me while they did the surgery. I asked the anesthesiologist how long
on average a c-section would take.

“Let’s
see…” Was his reply.

A few
minutes later he returned…”Three minutes…”

I heard
my baby crying as they cleaned her up.

They
handed her to her daddy and he held her next to my face. That first upside down
view of her little face is one I will never forget.

It was
4:15 p.m. on Christmas Eve.

We
named her Evalyn, a name we had picked out a few years before we’d started
trying. We hadn’t known our Evie would arrive on Christmas Eve.

The
little baby I had prayed so hard for on Christmas day the year before had made
it by the next Christmas–with less than eight hours to spare.

Christmas
Evie was here…and an answer to her mother’s prayers.

Greta Nole loved the old hotel more than any other place on earth. If the new owners close it down, she'd be out of a job and her beloved hotel would be gone forever. She'd do whatever she had to do to get the hotel in tiptop shape before the new owner arrived after Christmas. But first she had to survive Stormzilla, the nastiest snowstorm to hit southern Indiana in years.

Owen Levi III had no clue why his father would buy such a relic as the Jubilee--and then send Owen out there to check it out so close to Christmas. Had his dad finally lost his mind? The hotel was nothing more than an albatross around Levi Industries' neck and the only recommendation Owen could make was to tear it down! Quick. Owen's staring out the window, mentally going over what would need to be done to even get the hotel habitable when he sees an idiot woman walking through the storm. When she trips and hits her head Owen's outside to rescue her faster than he can think.

Greta and Owen have tangled over hotels before, and neither would ever admit defeat!

Sweet story. She's a beautiful gift from Above. Eleven years ago on Christmas day, my water broke--six weeks from my due date. Two hours after the stroke of midnight, my perfectly healthy baby boy was born. He's our Christmas miracle! And I'm SO glad he missed Christmas. That way, Jesus has His day, and Seth has his. :-)